


If I But Had The Time

by notanightlight



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aglarond, Canon Era, M/M, No beta we die like mne, paperwork is evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 19:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12824019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notanightlight/pseuds/notanightlight
Summary: A Dwarf with no time to devote to their craft is a very unhappy Dwarf.  Unfortunately, as the Lord of Aglarond, Gimli’s time is in high demand.





	If I But Had The Time

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [我要是有时间就好了](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14729837) by [FurryBigProblem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FurryBigProblem/pseuds/FurryBigProblem)



> Requested by both an Anonymouse and dragonarcheologist on tumblr from the Stabby Fic prompt: “You’re the one with a blade to my throat, so obviously you’re upset.”

 

Dwarves were creative by nature. It was one of the tenants of Dwarven culture and considered by many to be a point of pride. As Mahal crafted them from his own boundless creative energy, so too, they sought to fill the world with new works.

Jewelry, textiles, weaponry, songs, toys, tools, sculptures, poetry, glassworks, books, and countless other creations flowed from the Dwarven halls.

Gimli fiddled with the jewel containing The Lady’s Gift as he poured over the tinsmith guild’s projections for this quarter, and wondered how long it had been since he last produced anything from his own forge.

It was a question that had been ruminating on more and more frequently, and he didn’t like the answer. By his count, it had been nearly a decade. A dreadful state of affairs if he did say so himself. No wonder he found his temper growing shorter by the day and tension headaches haunted his nights. It was well known that every Dwarrow needed time dedicated to their craft to live a balanced life.

He resolved to take the evening in his forge once he had finished with his business.

However, it was not to be that night. He had barely roughed a design when one of his aides was wrapping at his forge’s door. There was a commotion in the market that required his immediate intervention.

By the time the incident was resolved, Gimli was far too weary to even consider returning to the forge. He decided to try again the next day.

Sadly, the Lord of Aglarond’s time was in high demand. He never seemed to get more than half an hour in his forge before someone needed his attention desperately. If it wasn’t the guilds, it was the council calling for an emergency meeting, or the new trade agreements from Rohan arriving, or another blasted disagreement amongst the miners in need of litigation.

Nearly two and a half weeks of this nonsense had Gimli seriously questioning if the council of Aglarond knew how to find their own arses without him there to point them out. At the very least, they finally seemed to have caught onto his rising irritation if the way they ducked from his gaze during their last meeting was anything to go by.

Gimli had escaped to his forge again after a long day staring at paperwork. He was hesitant to think that he might finish his project, but he _had_ been working at it for the longest uninterrupted period of time that he had managed thus far. It had been an unprecedented two whole hours in the forge, and he swore if anyone came begging for his time tonight he was going to drag them out by the beard!

He carefully cleaned the newly quenched blade he'd been working on, looking it over with a critical eye for any cracks or inclusions that could threaten its integrity. He intended it to become a knife that would be suitable for both hand-to-hand combat and throwing, so it needed to be strong enough to withstand a blow, but thin enough to slip through links of mail. Satisfied that the blade should hold, he hefted it by the tang to get a better feel of its weight.

He was just deciding on boxwood for the handle material when the creak of the forge door opening pierced his concentration. His temper flash boiled and he whirled on the intruder, blade still in hand.

Legolas blinked at him in shock, frozen where he was ducking under the doorway. He glanced down at the unfinished blade pointing at the hollow of his throat, and then back up to the red faced Dwarrow wielding it.

“...Have I done something I should be apologizing for?” He asked nonplussed.

“What?”

“I must have done something that upset you to earn such a greeting,” the Elf explained reasonably.

“I’m not upset,” Gimli denied.

“Well you’re the one with a blade at my throat, so obviously you’re upset,” Legolas replied.

Gimli lowered said blade hastily, blustering into his beard for a moment as he collected himself.

“I’m not upset _with you_ ,” he finally clarified as Legolas finished entering the forge.

“Then I pray, tell me who has caused you such upset that we must come at them with blades drawn!” Legolas said, playful drama in his voice as he leaned against Gimli’s worktable.

Gimli took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh.

“I’m afraid we would have to lay waste to all of Aglarond,” he replied, setting the blade down on his anvil. "And that would only make the problem worse."

Legolas tilted his head forward, his gaze losing some of its playful glimmer.

"That sounds serious."

Gimli rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Weariness settled over his shoulders like a cloak, now that his adrenaline and righteous anger had drained away.

"No, it's not so serious at all," he said. "Just an old Dwarf letting his frustrations get the better of him."

“And yet, it is enough for you to take up arms!" Legolas replied with a hand pressed to his chest.

"That doesn't count. It doesn't even have an edge yet,” Gimli grumbled under his breath.

Legolas came forward and took Gimli’s hands in his own. His thumbs rubbed over the little scars left by decades of life lived between the mines, the forge, and battlefield.

“Gimli, Meleth-nin, I can see how much this is weighing on you. Please, tell me what has you so tense. I want to help you."

Gimli gave Legolas's fine-boned hands a squeeze, finally relented in the face of the Elf’s concerned gaze.

"I guess... I’ve just been feeling like I'm always busy but never actually getting anything done. I don't think this forge has produced a single completed project in years." Gimli gestured at the unfinished blade. "Just getting that much done has taken me more than two weeks time. There's always something else that needs my attention, and I feel so unproductive."

Legolas nodded as things started to make sense.

"I see. You've been so busy crafting your masterpiece, that you haven't had time for any smaller recreational tasks."

Gimli raised an eyebrow.

"My masterpiece?"

"Aglarond," Legolas clarified. "Shaping it requires decades of cultivation. It reminds me of a farmer who must constantly attend to the needs of his fields. Of course, instead of plants in need of tending, you have a settlement in need of governing. I can understand the frustration."

"Sometimes it certainly seems the more fruitless of the two” Gimli said with a wry smile.

"I trust it won't always be so," Legolas replied warmly.

Gimli met Legolas's eyes and felt his spirits somewhat lifted by the calm assurance he saw there.

"You're right," Gimli conceded.

“Of course I am."

Gimli rolled his eyes at his cheeky Elf.

"Now then, let's see what we can do about the more immediate problem, and get you some quality time with your forge,” Legolas said, dropping Gimli’s hand and turning to pick up the chair Gimli kept in the forge.

Gimli eyed the chair with skeptical amusement.

"Do you plan to barricade us in, my love?”

"Nothing so drastic," Legolas replied, “I’m just going to sit guard in front of the door.”

"Really?" Gimli asked, resting a hand on Legolas’s arm. "You've just arrived, and I know there is plenty to do to get you settled for your visit."

"Actually, this will work nicely. It was a rather long journey from Ithilien, so I think I might take a nap while you work. It should deter any busybodies rather nicely. I’ve found that most Dwarves are very reluctant to disturb my rest."

A playful smile graced his lips and mischief sparkled in his eyes.

“It’s because you appear to be staring through their souls the way your eyes stay open like that,” Gimli said with a fond shake of his head.

"You never seem to mind."

"That's because I know my soul is already bare to you,“ Gimli replied.

Legolas gave him a warm smile and bent to press a kiss to his cheek. He then turned to open the forge door.

"Legolas,” Gimli called.

Legolas paused, looking over his shoulder with a curious expression.

"Thank you."

Legolas grinned. "I am always happy to be of service."

Then he ducked through the doorway, chair in hand, and closed it gently behind him.

Gimli spared a moment to wonder if Legolas really would indulge in some of the open-eyed rest of the Eldar, or if he would just fake it so he could watch the reactions. Things like that never failed to amuse the Elf. With far less tension that he had felt in weeks, Gimli set to selecting some boxwood for his handle, secure in the knowledge that his time would be well guarded.

 

  
The End.

 

 


End file.
